


The Cold Ones

by Spylace



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Brainwashing, Character Death, Gen, Implied Mpreg, Mind Control, Mythology - Freeform, Odin's A+ Parenting, Past Lives, Ragnarok, Repressed Memories, applicable, could be a part of a series, or the red room, what happens at the end of the world, when dealing with foreign gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spylace/pseuds/Spylace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Nari and Vali reimagined </p><p>Thousands of miles away in Karaganda, the Winter Soldier wakes in his watery tomb naked and bare without a single recollection of how he got there in the first place. His metal fist punches through the reinforced glass and he spills out onto the cold floor like the afterbirth. Enraptured by the spread of his toes on the ground, the rank liquid overtaking the cover of frost, the breadth of his shoulders and his mismatched hands, he does not notice the men with guns at his head.</p><p>He barely notices when his body flickers, the bullets passing harmlessly through. There is only one thing on his mind—find Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cold Ones

His eyes are blue she notes. They are the blue of a bottomless pond, hard ice, a handful of packed snow but no one seems to notice, not Odin, not Frigga, not Thor nor the Aesirs who once called themselves his friends.

Either they do not know or they plan at ignorance. They are gods compared to the mayfly briefness of human lives. For all that they can be hurt, maimed, die or grow old, they are worshipped as kings of kings, a fine guise of divinity that hides the truth beneath.

Loki spies her approach but does not try to stop her. Her mother is the god of lies but he does not have to be if the truth hurts more. As soon as the staff makes contact, she remembers.   

 

Thousands of miles away in Karaganda, the Winter Soldier wakes in his watery tomb naked and bare without a single recollection of how he got there in the first place. His metal fist punches through the reinforced glass and he spills out onto the cold floor like the afterbirth. Enraptured by the spread of his toes on the ground, the rank liquid overtaking the cover of frost, the breadth of his shoulders and his mismatched hands, he does not notice the men with guns at his head.

He barely notices when his body flickers, the bullets passing harmlessly through. There is only one thing on his mind— _find Steve_.

The Winter Soldier knows nothing of the nine realms, the unending cycle of the tree Yggdrasil. He does not yet see his prophesized end, the stretch of neither his soft underbelly nor his brother’s flesh in between his teeth. An army of shadows gather on the dark side of the moon but he is blind to it. 

He only sees the file and the photos it contains, the handsome American soldier he does not recognize, knows and will love forever.

Across the ocean, the Avengers have saved the Earth. The Black Widow remembers her birthright and their mother is taken prisoner. In the sky, between the canvas of black and the stars, Fenrir runs free unfettered by chains except those of his own making, a rune carved over his chest.

The Black Widow says nothing. She knows better than anyone what it is like to be deconstructed then remade, bloated with so many false memories that she must choose to believe some of it or go insane.

It is Agent Romanov who sits next to Clint Barton for the swarma, it is Natasha Romanov who goes in search for the soviet operative known as the Winter Soldier.

 

She takes in the blood-splattered walls with ill-disguised impatience.

In the background, a junior field agent gags at the putrid smell. It will be a good experience for her. Not all operations are glorious. Some are distasteful, others even pointless.

Sitwell shakes his head. No match for the fingerprints on the file.

She hadn’t expected any.

Fingerprints are personal, human, their target is anything but. The one on the crisp photograph of Steve Rogers during the siege of New York is like the clutch of a dying man. She makes the call. The Winter Soldier is on the loose, his target, Captain America.

 

“The cycle is broken.”

Her wardrobe changes when she sets foot on Asgard, the home of the proud Aesir, now stagnating under their perceived might. Time is now ripe for the Ragnarok yet it cannot take place. Not while she and her siblings are scattered across the universe free of Loki’s claim.

Her uniform peels off and molds itself into a scaled green dress, the color of her mother’s eyes, the color they should have been had he not been so hasty to wake them all at once. But, she notices to small amount of relief, green is spreading from his pitiless eyes like spring leaves. “You have grown soft.” She scoffs and his head lolls across the thin spindle of his neck, the weight of an entire planet rotating on its axis.

Loki blinks in welcome like a cat before a veil of dark hair hides his face.

“Hela” He says pleasantly, his face waxen and shadowed. “You are late.”

 

Hela is born not of Loki’s womb but lured into existence like chaos and light. Hel reforms itself as it always does after the cleansing, an afterlife for those who were found unworthy of a hero’s name.

It is a quiet place, a restful place, filled with those who had led boring lives, exciting lives and passed away quiet in death. She converses with many of these, souls she never noticed when she first reigned. Through the corner of her omniscient eyes, she sees her father born as a get of a frost giant and placed on an altar immortalizing his name.

She is watching when he is taken.

Yet Hel alone cannot storm the halls of Asgard. She keeps watch knowing she is watched in turn. Her mother is a weakness, an Achilles heel for her and her sibs, the flog to strike Sleipnir’s back, weights to keep Jormangundr from rising from the deep. Without her father, her siblings remain unborn thus appear from nothing, formed by dust and lullabies long forgotten.

For the first time in nearly a millennia, she leaves her home in Hel to visit Midgard where her brother waits for his body to be torn asunder so the world may begin again.

This is the first time in memory he dies alone, dead from something other than a zealot who wishes to retain his throne. It is at once novel and refreshing like a nip of frost in spring. This is a chance, it is an opportunity. It would be a shame to waste it.

“You were never the sentimental sort.” Loki says finally. He seems strangely proud of the fact and she holds her head up high as it is her due. “Why are you here?”

“Last time, you attempted to break the cycle with your own hands.”

“And I failed.” Loki appears at the front of the cage, gaunt like a wolf, a hair’s width away from the golden screen. He bares his teeth and hisses “I renounced you before your birth, before you had time to take root in my belly and grow whole once more. You are free Hela, make of that what you will.”

She cannot feel his breath across her cheeks, does not feel the Jotun chill of his skin. Her mother could be an illusion Odin Allfather cast to trick her into revealing herself. But inexplicably she knows that Loki is real. Loki is hers, she is Loki’s. They all belong to Loki.

“What is it that you called me? A mewling quim?” She says in a soft voice. Loki flinches. “Even so, this one sees, this one believes that you can stop the wheel before it turns once more.”

 

Thor does not understand great many things but he does know this, family, duty, honor, loyalty. He has no idea what leads him to the dungeons when a season and a half has passed without his footsteps darkening Loki’s door. Thor knows his mother visits regularly for she is soft and the clothes his brother wears are embroidered in her hand.

When he sees Lady Natasha in a becoming shade of green, he is struck by queer familiarity. The prisoners are all dead in their cells and the guards asleep at their post. He draws Mjolnir, electricity cracking the air. Loki jumps at the sound and he remembers rather fondly that his brother had always feared the storms and snuck inside his bed when the clouds began to rumble. Perhaps the other recalled the distant past when his infant life had been in peril, lost to a blizzard that was of his blood-kin’s making.

‘Thor’ Loki’s mouth shapes but never says out loud for Lady Natasha stands in front of him fierce with her seior burning her hair jet black. “Let us pass.” Again, he feels like he should know her, not as a Midgardian warrior but as a babe in his arms, a child who danced prettily to his steps.

His arm falls slack at his side, Mjolnir hanging loosely from his fingers.

The war hammer does not sing of battles but memories of a little girl in her silk dress, a shriveled arm and a heart-shaped face.

“Nick Fury has agreed. Loki is of Asgard. He will serve out his punishment as per our laws and traditions.”

“I didn’t come here on behalf of SHIELD or Nick Fury.” She jerks her head. “I came for him; I came for my brother.”

Oddly, his thoughts do not take the obvious route. 

“Who is your brother Lady Natasha?”

Loki stifles a hurt whimper, one that he immediately wishes to soothe. But the Midgardian warrior bars his way, her left eye that of a corpse.

“He is one you once knew but chose to forget.”

 

The acrid smell of ozone fades into one of apple blossoms when Natasha opens a portal away from Odin All-liar’s eye, onto a bridge which flows like a river between the nine. The light is solid when she sets her spiked heel on the pedestal, condensing into pearly steps as she helps her mother across.

Fear berates her heart as it never did when she sat on her throne, beggars clawing at her feet. Loki squeezes her dead hand as though he understands and shakes his head free of the pauper’s cloak, as proud as a prince can be without a throne, a king in exile and a mother with no child. Where they touch it sizzles like an iron tossed in the forge.

Fenrir and his twin sons are the first among their companions as they set sights on Midgard. The giant wolf circles his pups. He is as black as the night, an eclipse which swallows the stars. His sons are small yet, only the size of ordinary wolves and buff grey in color.

“Mother, sister, well met.” He whines, each shake of his tail pitting planets against each other. “My sons Skoll and Hati you know verily though you have never met. They are three turns and a moon these past seasons and are pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The pups bark in turn politely and Loki offers them a warm smile. But they are terribly exposed upon the branches of Yggdrasil. Fenrir turns away with a reluctant whine, great paws snapping colored leaves which blanket the ball root down below. He snaps at his elder sister, snagging her sleeve between his teeth. Natasha pushes him away cutting off the tip of his nose.

Blood dots her dress making her appear a she-wolf to wandering eyes. Loki has no such protection and his strides grow larger and more purposeful. Heimdall turns his gaze, at the pack of wolves led by a sorcerer who is to bring about the beginning of Ragnarok.

“We’ve been made.”

“Take care my son.” Loki murmurs. “Odin will follow soon.”

“I dare that fool to try.” Fenrir snarls, licking his nose. “Odin the Allfather, Odin the all-liar, spear-breaker, oath-breaker.” He taunts until his sons are frightened away, entranced elsewhere by the scrape of scales across the ocean floor.

“Even so my darling.” Loki replies tiredly. Natasha pushes at him through Jotunheim where giants still cry for his blood and Niflheim which may throw the hounds of Odin off their scent.

At last they reach Midgard and it is beautiful.

Loki assumes a disguise.

“Even so."

 

The Winter Soldier stands knee-deep in snow. There are no footprints behind him to indicate where he came from, nothing to indicate where he will go. He looks upon the vastness of the Alps where aged pine groans at the mercy of the winds. His eyes flicker and all around him is a sudden calm. Snow drifts across his forehead in a cold kiss.

 _Steve_ —

 

Steve cannot sleep. He has checked the faucets twice, unplugged the radio, the TV, the microwave. He took the batteries out of the clock that was supposed to make him feel at home and he made his bed twice. Still, Steve cannot sleep.

Out of frustration, he flings open the windows of his Brooklyn apartment breathing into the dingy air. His breath comes in frosted bursts which clouds his vision before clearing. Heart hammering, he grips the windowsill, about to launch himself into the stars when Tony appears with his hands held out.

“Woah there Superman.”

“Tony?”

Tony Stark looks deeply uncomfortable even behind the suit.

“What were you... were you...? Never mind. Fury called. He wants us ASAP.”

 

Loki buries his sons-not-sons in tears but Odin dishonors them both every time. The guilt is not of Vali’s making but Vali is the weapon and he will be what kills Nari, binds Loki until the end of time.

It is not a good death or an honorable one. Thus Vali is found forever wanting at the steps of Valhalla where his brother lays.

Nine mothers came together to give birth to Heimdall in his golden armor. The twins, aesir pink with ten fingers and ten toes, one fair, other dark as dusk, are called abominations.

Is it very strange that where one goes the other is sure to follow?

 

There are contingencies in place for every scenario. Black Widow’s defection is neither unprecedented nor surprising. What is surprising is that she comes back. And she is not alone.

Within seconds they are surrounded.

Clint gapes at her choice of attire, a tight-fitting green dress which leaves very little to the imagination. Her companion is worse, a dark-haired beauty who reveals herself to be none other than the god of chaos himself.

“You!” Stark booms from inside his armor. “And him!”

“Mortals” Her mother purrs. “I come burdened with a glorious purpose.”

Natasha glares.

 

It takes a while to get everyone settled. By the time Captain Rogers has arrived, Stark has finished securing the two of them, using the technology replicated when Thor last came to visit. Her seior is stripped from her though that is hardly a deterrent if she wants to escape. She sees fifteen ways to free herself when Clint only sees fourteen. The thought is enough to reassure her as Stark opens his mouth to say

“So you’re not an ex-Soviet superspy?”

He almost sounds disappointed.

“Clearly, that is the most important thing here.” She says impatiently.

“Wait, wait, wait, back up.” Clint holds his hands in a ‘T’. “Loki is your father?”

“He is not.”

“Oh thank god.”

“He is my mother.”

“What?!”

“This is all very fascinating.” Fury deadpans. “But what does it have to do with the Winter Soldier?”

 

After a brief explanation both Clint and Tony’s expression was one of infinite disgust at the fact Loki procreated in his absence. Bruce looked fascinated.

“He’s your son?!”

“Precisely.” Loki snaps. “He is my son and heir.” He grimaces. “He would have been a match for me had he lived.”

“But why is he after me?” Steve asked, genuinely curious.

Loki does not meet his eyes.

“Because you too are my son Nari. It is” he spits “destiny.”

Clint scoots discreetly off to the side.

“Um... I had a mother. And a father. He served in the 107th.” He confesses “I don’t remember you.”

“You wouldn’t.” Loki says. “After all, it was I who killed you last.”

 

He adds idly, “You were never particularly _gifted_.”

 

After an outraged uproar and a flipped table, Director Fury, the Avengers, Loki assume their seats, drinks and confectionary to ease the rising tension. The jotun god merely picks at his plate and sips melted ice.

“So what’s the plan?” asks Tony, direct and to the point. “How do we stop the Winter Soldier from offing cap?”

“You cannot.” Loki says idly, examining his nails.

Fury raises an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

“I have already broken the cycle. The danger does not come from Vali but from those who wish for the wheels to turn and the tree to sprout anew.” Loki turns his eyes to him and he feels stricken. All he knows of this man is that he is a bad man, one in a list of many. Now he is not so sure. “Every cycle, you die at the hand of your twin. Vali is driven mad and Odin calls it mercy to turn him inside out. Vali stays with me until the end, not living, not dead, one foot in Hel for his death was not of valor, one foot with me in the bowels of Midgard, one with me, tied to me and so I killed you in my womb to spare him the pain. Perhaps I had meant to kill Vali. It does not matter. The cycle is broken.”

“Until I came in contact with the Tesseract.” Natasha says quietly.

“The Tesseract isn’t just a door is it?” Clint asks and Loki seems pleased at the question.

“It is my memories, my power that Odin took when he saw what I’d done.”

“Can you stop him?” Fury demands bluntly.

“Perhaps” Loki concedes, coy as he folds the paper in front of him into a flying crane. “Vali has been asleep a long time.”

Steve swiftly draws a breath when a file falls open between the two of them to reveal the face of a man he thought he lost forever.

“ _Bucky_ ”

 

The Winter Soldier is a tiger who stalks through the jungle. He slips behind enemy lines. Most agents do not know he is there. People like Maria Hill are well-trained, warier of tricks and disguises, but that does not stop the Red Room’s greatest prize from sifting around them as intangible as a literal ghost.

Captain Rogers plays bait with ill-disguised grace, every once in a while, he jumps to the static burst. He does not know why.

He breathes and breathes and breathes.

Loki’s eyes flash.

“I feel him.”

 

“We have a bigger problem. Winter Soldier is not the only one after him.”

 

Thor sends a message through Sif whom no one will suspect.

“An army gathers to take your head trickster.” She hisses in his ear, her hand a tangle in his hair. “You cannot think you can get away with this.”

“Oh my dear Sif” He laughs. “That was never my plan.”

 

A spy in their midst, the helicarrier becomes their grave.

Agents die one by one in unwatched hallways. Shots are fired randomly at odd hours. One down, two down, Natasha washes her knife on a man’s thigh. She bares her teeth in a bloodied grimace as the third charges her.

 

By the time Hela found him, Vali was dead.

She coaxed him back to life using every inch of knowledge she possessed, warding off vengeful Valkyries with the tricks she learned under her father’s tutelage. Her dominion was the dying and she had not come to collect. When the Russians found his body in the snow with a breath attached, she could interfere no longer without incurring the Allfather’s wrath.

Hela could not reverse the spell she placed on her brother nor take him away in his liquid sleep so she bided her time and forgot. She was reborn into a body of a mortal girl to an unassuming pair too greedy for their own good. Where the goddess of afterlife had soothed her brother’s tears in her skirts, Natasha Romanov became an inductee of the Red Room.

 

“I am not your enemy.”

The air is cold. His breath turns to steam.

Clint shivers because this, this is something different. The fight to save cap becomes a fight for his life and that of SHIELD. The Winter Soldier is a legend, the boogeyman sent to haze the probies. He is also smaller than expected, a smidgen shorter than he is whereas myths paint him a seven-foot half-man, half-monster.

His hair is choppy in places as though cut off in haste with a knife, patches of unruly brown to be filled in their own time. He is gaunt like a starved bear, just as canny, clever and cruel. His left shoulder rests at a lower height and his treads are shockingly quiet.

He is dangerous as fuck and Clint notches his arrow no matter how mad Tasha might be because James Barnes might be god but he is not and he has no plans to die today. This man, this man is not sane. The last time he’d seen that look in a man’s eyes when he was possessed into helping an invading army from outer space break into their dimension. Clint shudders even as he breathes into the flurry of snow, the deadly arc of his bow freezing over in branching patterns.

The Winter Soldier’s eyes are the palest blue of a winter dawn, unflappable and startlingly familiar. Here is a man who does not need magic to kill or incapacitate. He is a man who has seen death across decades, knows it intimately like he might a lover. Clint averts his eyes because he cannot look any longer and he is lost.

His bow breaks easily in his metal grip, line snapping with a sharp twang that seems hilariously out of place. Clint’s fought Nat before, both for fun and her life because he needed to bring her in.

“You are Hela’s.” The Winter Soldier remarks artlessly. Clint grunts his assent, lightheaded from their proximity and the wild arcs of blue leaping between their skin. He closes in. His eyes are very blue. “She should take better care.”

 

Bifrost marks the helicarrier as soldiers pour forth. At their head is Tyr, rousing their blood. In front of them stands Thor and the Warrior Three, Sif as she pulls her lips back in a grimace.

“Are you not men?” Thor roars trying to be heard over the wind. Thunderheads roll around them to mark his fury. The metal groans under his weight, sagging as she continues to lose altitude. “Will you slay an innocent man, an honorable man to satisfy the demands of an old fool?!”

“You speak of treason my prince.” Freyr says solemnly. “The Allfather has spoken and it must be so.”

 

_“I am not your enemy.”_

_“The Winter Soldier is not the only one.”_

 

“You are not the only ones with friends in high places... so to speak.”

 

Steve knows something is wrong when Agent Collins suddenly spins around and aims a kick at his head. It startles him long enough that McDowell gets a drop on him, strings a garrote against his throat and _pulls_. He smashes his against her face and aims for Collins’ crotch. Just because Tony calls him a boy scout all the time doesn’t mean he fights fair. Anything Bucky forgot to teach him the war made sure he learned. In less than a minute, he has five agents laid out in front of him. He doesn’t particularly care which ones are breathing. The air turns cold.

“Vali...” He tries. “ _Bucky_?” 

 

The Winter Soldier lets go. Eventually.

 

“ _This is... this is Hawkeye... the Winter Soldier is on the second level... the Winter soldier is..._ ”

 

Loki cuts his thumb and smears his blood in a rune beneath the table. Agent Sitwell mutters something inscrutable from behind his tablet but his nose twitches when the readings indicate something untoward behind the glass.

“Sir, whatever you’re doing you’re going to have to stop.”

“It is time.”

 

The man of iron joins him on the roof as does Banner and other Midgardian warriors.

A howl pierces the storm, jarring and echoing bone-deep. From the light charges Sleipnir, his father’s mount, kicking men with all eight of his hooves. Fenrir is quick to follow, his monstrous size a deterrent for even the bravest of men. His sons, whose bites are deep make way for the largest of the monstrous brood, Jormangundr who is no longer a sea-serpent but a craggy frost giant swinging his arms like enormous clubs. None of whom wishes the cycle to end. All will fight to death to defend it.

 _How do you know this?_ The thought shakes him. _How do you know? You foolish vain boy!_

His grin is like a slice of lightning as it strikes down. 

 

“Bucky”

Bucky is in a stolen uniform cocking his head as though listening for something. Steve feels like an idiot for trying but he’d be a bigger idiot if he didn’t. Drawing his breath, he takes another step forward when the Winter Soldier draws his gun.

He holds his hands up. “I don’t want to fight you.”

The Winter Soldier stares dispassionately.

“Orders are orders pal.”

 

They are below deck. Natasha has just enough room to put a bullet in a sleeper’s head before recognizing the ruse for what it is. She taps her comm to warn, “We have a sniper on board.”

 

Steve hears her and instinctively looks up at the labyrinth of pipes and walkways stacked above him. The Winter Soldier sees his chance, switches to a knife as he makes a run towards him and he braces for the impact. But he jumps past him as graceful as Sam or Natasha in midair. He slides his shield from his back and holds it up like a Frisbee.

In that moment, he has his best friend back swaggering like he’d just kicked the snot out of Hodges and his gang. His arm, the real one, bends as though to put the shield away behind his back. The bullet is quiet when it rips through his neck, drenching him in his blood.

 

Natasha stabs him viciously until the man is no more than a pulpy mass. Blood drips on her eyelid, seeping down from above. It curves like tears down her cheeks.

 

There is so much blood.

Steve tries to hold him together, the chunks of flesh that are literally falling apart at his fingertips. The other man gasps, coughing up blood even as it floods the hole in his neck. He blinks rapidly, descending into shock. Whatever Zola pumped into his blood, whatever it means to be an immortal offspring of the god of chaos falling in the wayside against twenty-first century weaponry.

“No, no, no, Buck, _please_!”

He almost lashes out when another pair of hands join him, green firebugs alighting Bucky’s slick skin.

“Oh my son” Loki sighs, “My Vali. Your cycle is broken. You are free.”

Bucky gurgles in disagreement.

“Odin” He chokes. His tongue writhes in his mouth. “Odin”

“Not this time.” Steve assures him, readjusting his grip as parts of his neck reattaches seamlessly to his spine. He leans down, eyes wet as he presses their foreheads together. “This time we know he’s coming. We’ll stop him.” 

 

 _Can you see Vali?_ Mother asks him through the haze. _Open your eyes_.

He opens them and is immediately blinded by the halo around Steve’s head. Steve looks relieved and his joy manifests as golden sunlight across the bridge of his nose and brow like someone’s smeared honey all over his face.

Bucky’s tongue is thick and fat in his mouth when he tries to talk. He wants to reach out and wash it for him but his arms do not move. His legs are as weak as water and he has lost all feelings below his neck.

Suddenly, the fog dispels into crystal clarity. His head rests on Steve’s lap, hands held tight as though he fears losing him all over again.

“Nari” He rasps and starts in surprise when his skin sparks with silvery light. It does not hurt; it is a part of him that has longed to speak with him. “Vali”

_Can you see?_

Bucky’s smile fades when he sees death looming behind his father’s head.

Loki nods in understanding as he plunges his dagger in his gut.

 

Thor grieves and his friends and family with him, the wolves in a pile at his feet, Sleipnir standing listlessly at his back. Clever Loki, tricky Loki, what better way to stop the Ragnarok than to erase its beginning. Yggdrasil sways to Jormangundr’s mournful song as he slips into the Midgardian seas, the whales and dolphins still in the waves when they hear his voice.

Odin’s army seems stunned by the turn of events and is slow to disperse even with Nick Fury’s loud encouragements. They return one by one to Asgard where his father’s impotent fury will be spent at a son dead and the other lost.

Nari and Vali hold each other’s hand amazed to see each other grown from their childish frames. One is blond as the other is dark as he and Loki once were and he turns his head unable to bury his sorrow at the sight of brothers reunited.

“Who are they Lady Natasha for I remember one but not the other and never without.”

Lady Natasha dons her green robes, an extravagant mask hiding her rotting face.

“Have you not guessed already brother-beloved of my mother? One fair, the other dark, a mother whose belly never swelled and a father who begets monsters of men.”

Thor thinks for a moment and says “My father will not stop.”

Lady Natasha nods, "I know this.”

“What’s gonna happen now?” Vali slurs, fingers digging into Fenrir’s black mantle.

“We wait” Hela sighs, “ _For the end of the world_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen Fury, Coulson and Darcy or Pepper take on the role of Loki's children every so often so I decided to switch it up a little. This is an old fic and I've been toying around with the idea for a while but Thor 2 was inspiring enough to get me to finish it so ta-da.


End file.
